


Conversations with the Devil

by Zinogrebait



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Internal Conflict, Lonely Reader, Megatron is going to break you in the best way, Panic Attacks, Reader is tired of everything and everyone, Seduction, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinogrebait/pseuds/Zinogrebait
Summary: In which you are the miserable, tired and trusted assistant of Dr. Isaac Sumdac. You find yourself intrigued by the severed head belonging to a once mighty mechanical giant in his private laboratory, and despite all the glaring warning signs, you decide to go ahead and try to sate your curiosity.You should have stayed outside.
Relationships: Megatron/Reader, Megatron/you
Comments: 29
Kudos: 83





	1. Sloth

**Author's Note:**

> I was rewatching TFA recently and this sprang to mind, because honestly, whenever I hear Corey Burton's voice as Megatron I legitimately melt. I wasn't intending to make much of it but it kinda took off by itself, and I wanted to explore the idea. I apologize if terminology isn't perfect and it might stray from canon.

“You’re not an Autobot.” 

Megatron’s red optic, the one that still had function, was fixed on you, casting you in scarlet. You stood there, arms folded across your chest, staring right back.

“What would bring you to make such a heinous accusation?”

“A lot of things have been going awry since you started getting involved, and I don’t honestly believe you wouldn’t want the others to know you survived. They could help fix you faster than Dr. Sumdac ever could,” you respond. “And, you look like the Devil.” 

“The Devil?” he repeats in a drawl, one that sends cold shivers swimming down your spine. 

“He’s a literary figure. The antithesis of truth. A fallen angel who terrorizes the world through evil.”

“How bold of you. Do you believe your accusations will hold any weight?”

You didn’t start this conversation with the intention of changing anything. “No. Dr. Sumdac could never bring himself to believe such a despicable claim, not after everything he’s done. It would absolutely crush him. I’ll leave that to you, when you finally reveal who you really are.” 

He’s silent, for a moment, but it feels like an eternity.

“Is there a reason, then, why you are here?”

Such a simple question, but you instantly feel the danger that comes with it. Your heart quickens in pace, because from the corner of your eye you swear you see something shift in the shadows. He might have been an immobile head, but his influence over this laboratory could still prove lethal to you. All it would take is one freak ‘ _accident_ ’, a blow on the head from a glitching apparatus, an unexpected electrical _shock_. 

“Curiosity,” you answer, trying to keep yourself deadpan. “I wanted to know more about you.”

You still try to keep your composure, even as you feel cold metal brush up against the back of your neck. You don’t dare move an inch. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“I don’t think I believe you.” 

“I had no reason to be truthful with you, but I was. I know what you’re capable of. Honestly, it’d just cast more suspicion on you if I was found dead in here.”

“Alternatively, you could flee and run your mouth as soon as you get the chance.” Megatron’s voice suddenly seems a lot darker. You didn’t think it was possible. It makes you shiver. “Or perhaps your allegations are false to begin with, and you would only serve to embarrass yourself in front of your esteemed peers.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “You speak like him, too.”

“And what else does this ‘Devil’ do?” he asks.

“He tempts mortals into sin.”

“And are you tempted?” 

The question completely catches you off guard. You feel so insignificant, so _worthless_ before this metal behemoth, who yearns to rebuild his body and unleash devastation upon your world. You shouldn’t be in his presence. You shouldn’t be craving _more_ of it. Such a question is your undoing. “ _Yes_ ,” you barely choke out, feeling a crushing pressure on your windpipe as one of the many instruments at his disposal strikes you, leaving you hanging helplessly and bathed in that sinister, crimson glow.

“How foolish,” he mutters, indifferent to your struggles for breath. “You humans truly _are_ pitiful. You infest this pathetic planet like parasites. Do you think I have any use for you, and your frail, fleshy form?” 

You agree wholeheartedly. Misanthropic, but true. You probably hate humans more than he does, because you’ve lived on this earth your entire life and seen just how _terrible_ people really are. You’re tired of trying to exist in a world where everyone makes you feel like you don’t want to.

“I am almost tempted to let you live, just to see what you will do.”

He can’t emote, but you can detect the cruelty in his tone. He would be _smirking_ if he could. This was probably the most entertainment he’d had in a long time, being stuck here helpless in this laboratory, surrounded by enemies completely unaware of his true intentions. You know it won’t be too long before he regains his body.

“The _antithesis_ of truth, you said. The Devil would make a fine Decepticon.” 

He’s going to decimate this planet. He’s going to kill _everybody_.

And when he finally lets you go, and you hit the floor, gaping to bring air into your lungs, you still don’t intend to do a damn thing about it.


	2. Gluttony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your visits have become borderline obsessive. Today, you receive an unexpected fright, but not how you anticipated, and you see Megatron's incredible cunning firsthand.

You just couldn’t get enough of him.

Every chance presented, you took.

You knew Sumdac Tower like the back of your hand, navigating the corridors with ease and staying out of the way of security. It wasn’t like anybody would have stopped you anyway. You had higher clearance than most of the employees here, because you had been around for _years_ , having practically grown up in these dull, gray halls. Dr. Sumdac trusted you wholeheartedly, but he was a busy man and he’d never really had time for you beyond your basic interactions at work. You knew he’d loved your father, at least.

Definitely more than _you_.

You’d rarely seen the man because he’d spent his entire life working in a lab, and when he’d perished at the hand of his own ridiculous experiments, you grew numb. Some days you would wake up and feel nothing, others you would cry endlessly, buried under blankets and contemplating the point of your existence. Even with him gone, you _still_ couldn’t get a break.

And above all else, you were _alone_.

“How unfortunate.”

“He got what was coming to him,” you say nonchalantly. You’d just finished spilling your woes to the immobilized warlord, and despite how detached he sounds, you definitely feel better, though you’re quick to change the subject. “I brought more classic literature with me today. Some epic poems and stuff. I thought I’d read some to you, if you like. It’s got to be better than listening to the professor drone on for hours.”

“And why would you think that?” he inquires.

“You seem like the type who would find meaning in it," you answer, completely honest.

“You and your analogies. I fail to see how this absolves you of any blame or guilt, when you are constantly comparing me to your planet’s fictitious personification of evil incarnate. Should you not be more inclined to work against me?”

You can’t help but smirk. “There’s two sides to every story. It’s really not as simple as that. The Devil is a classically _tragic_ figure.”

“I don’t need your sympathy.”

“Mhm…” you pull out one of the books, before letting your bag fall to the floor. You flip through the pages, wondering which passage you’re going to read out to him first.

“Your visits have become excessive.” Megatron asserts out of nowhere. He’s stating the obvious, but you’ve learned that’s just another way he demands answers.

You sigh. “Whenever I can, this is where I come.”

“You are playing an incredibly dangerous game.”

He doesn’t need to spell it out. You feel your neck tingle painfully, the bruise still unhealed, a reminder that every single time you step foot in here, you were putting yourself at the mercy of a monster. You lift a hand to rub at it where it’s concealed by your sweater. “Oh well.”

“It’s almost as if you _want_ me to terminate you.”

“Possibly. Are you going to?” you inquire, to which his eye seems to hone in on you.

“That is still yet to be seen.”

He’s still trying to work you out. You think he is, anyway, because he’s always undecided on what appeals to you more; death to reprieve your insignificant existence or the idea he might actually keep you around for stimulating conversation.

As if the latter would _ever_ be true, when he had _plenty_ of his own kind to satisfy those desires.

Only, not _yet_ , so _you’d_ have to do.

“I wonder, what goes on in that twisted, pitiful little organic processor of yours?” his voice pulls you out of your endless, spiralling thoughts. Your breath hitches as the same apparatus responsible for almost choking you to death slides under your chin and tilts your head _up_. “What brings you back to me, when you could easily go running into the arms of those accursed _Autobots_?”

He draws out that last word with so much venom, you knees buckle.

“They don’t even know I exist,” you admit truthfully, captured in his stare, “why should I care?”

He _laughs_. It reverberates through your entire being, and you’re quite sure it’s possibly the most captivating sound you’ve ever heard. It’s completely at your expense, of course, but the fact you managed to amuse him feels like an _accomplishment_. “What a pathetic excuse. Are you simply that selfish?”

“Selfish? I… I guess that’s it...” you don’t even bother defending yourself.

“You would forsake your entire planet just to slake your curiosity?”

He’d asked this question before, but with different words. It always seemed like this was where your conversations would lead to, no matter how they started. Megatron’s minor intrigue with you began and ended at this strange infatuation you apparently had formed for him.

After a brief pause, you reply. “I’m not important enough.”

You’re lying to yourself.

Not because you think that’s necessarily untrue, but with the information you have about his identity, you could stop a whole lot of pain before it happens. He knows that too, yet he’s allowed you to walk in and out of this lab so many times. If he thought you were actually going to tell, there’s no way you would’ve survived this long.

He’s clearly confident. You _shiver_. Even though he’s largely helpless, he still holds so much _power_. Especially over _you_.

“Or perhaps there is more to you than what meets the eye.”

It’s barely a compliment, but it’s the nicest thing he’s said to you so far anyway, so you shoot him a melancholic smile. “Humans are complex. Emotionally, we’re all train wrecks. Some are just better at hiding it than others.”

“So I’ve observed. Yet out of all the humans that could have possibly deduced my identity, it was _you,_ ” he lays it out plain, making sure you’re aware of every little detail. You definitely are. “The one who cannot even bring herself to _do_ anything about it.”

You shrug. “Well, the universe should’ve picked someone else if it cares so much about this shitty planet.”

“So you intend to simply watch everything unfold?”

“If you’ll let me get that far,” you murmur.

“Behave yourself, and I might.” Megatron sounds sincere, and that immediately sends alarm bells ringing. You’re confused about how you feel, wondering if you’re really, truly _okay_ with all of this.

 _I don’t care about myself,_ _h_ _e doesn’t care about_ _me either_ _,_ you remind yourself constantly, _so does it matter if he’s telling the truth or not?_

“Can I get front row seats too?” you inquire innocently, completely disregarding the battle currently waging on in your head.

“Do not push your luck.” Megatron finally moves away the mechanism that had been pressing under your chin, and you find yourself _missing_ it, the cold steel having been oddly comforting.

How ironic, considering the history you had with it.

You remember the book you’re clutching tightly, and you’re about to try and resume your attempted reading session with the incapacitated, metal tyrant, when your heart jumps into your _throat_. Your wide eyes lock on the door to the laboratory as it slides _open_ and the first thing your brain does is make you dive behind one of the massive consoles to your left.

It’s over. Your nerves are getting the better of you as you literally can’t stop _shaking_. Megatron isn’t going to cover for you. It’s _way_ too risky, considering—

“ _What_ in the!”

— your bag is _right there_ , and to top it all off you’d dropped the _book_ , too.

You can’t even _begin_ to list off the consequences of being found in here. You’d be fired, without a doubt, but the professor’s secret here was the key to his _entire_ empire. Would he have you thrown in prison, or worse? He wasn’t a bad person, you were sure, but you are certainly afraid of the measures he would take to keep you quiet.

How nonsensical that you feared _Isaac_ more than _Megatron_. At least, in this scenario.

It was downright _laughable_. Insulting, even. Maybe because he was the _only_ individual that could stop you from seeing the warlord ever again.

“What is _this_ doing in here? _What happened?!”_ you hear the professor demand, already beginning to melt down into sheer, unadulterated _panic_. You hear him _gasp_ , and you’re sure he’s identified it as your bag. Your initials are printed on it and you’ve never had a reason to regret that until now.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Megatron’s voice follows, subtle with confusion, and you hug your knees tighter to your chest, listening out for their conversation and simultaneously to the vigorous pounding of your heart.

“This _bag_!” Isaac borderline cries out. “It belongs to one of my assistants!”

“Obviously. Is something the matter?” his lack of concern is a _stark_ contrast to the professor's outburst.

Dr. Sumdac rants and raves with some _very_ colourful words you haven’t ever heard him use before. “ _Everything_ is the matter! I… I don’t understand. _How_ did she get in? How did… I need to find her right away!”

“No one has stepped inside this laboratory but _you_.”

“I… what?” Dr. Sumdac sounds absolutely taken aback. You are even _more_ so.

“You don’t recall?” Megatron inquires gently, _too_ gently. You _know_ that tone. It’s similar to when he’s toying with you, but lately, the lines had blurred and you found it difficult to differentiate between what was manipulation and what was truth.

It’s a slap in the face to not be on the receiving end of his honeyed words, making you remember precisely who you are dealing with. Of course, you’ve known all along, but this sudden reminder doesn’t _frighten_ you, like it should. It intrigues you. It _excites_ you.

“Recall… recall what?” Dr. Sumdac is impatient, but instead of following his gut instinct, he listens.

“Ah. I see,” the cybertronian drawls slowly, making you and the professor hang on every word, “when was the last time you powered down, Professor Sumdac?”

“You mean slept? It’s… well, I don’t think that matters.”

“I believe for humans it does.” Megatron responds. “Only yesterday had you passed out at your desk.”

You can _hear_ the embarrassment in the professor’s voice. “Okay, but I am _still_ failing to see any relevance—

“ _You_ are the one that brought in this bag.” Megatron cuts into him, silencing him instantly.

“I don’t recall that at all! There's no way. Are you sure I—

“Do you not trust me?”

“No, no I… I _do_ trust you. I’m just thinking.” Dr. Sumdac pauses after that and silence falls. You are _completely_ enraptured by how _easily_ he winds the man around his finger, or lack thereof. You were already very well aware that he had the professor fooled, but his persuasiveness was on another _level_.

“You were going to return it today. After all, it would be... _impolite_ to keep it.”

You dare to cautiously take a peek, just in time to see one of the monitors switch on. Your eyes widen as manipulated footage plays across the screen, a minor glitch here and there, but sure enough, your bag is in the hands of the professor as he carelessly drops it on the floor and proceeds to seat himself in the severed hand of Megatron before falling asleep almost instantly.

Dr. Sumdac is _exhausted_ , rubbing his temples tiredly, and when he turns back around you only catch a brief glimpse of the dark bags under his eyes before you hide again. “This isn’t good. Not at all. If I’m forgetting simple things like that, then how can I be expected to make progress on rebuilding your body?”

“All in good time.”

You grimace. Megatron forced that sentence out with as little malice as possible, but _you_ pick it up. You know how badly he wants to get out of here, and you’re certain his pride has been so battered that at this point, he would have no shame being dishonest about _anything_.

“She must have left it out in the corridor… need to tell her to be more careful…” you hear the professor mumble to himself. “What’s this?”

Your heart picks up again.

“Paradise Lost… by John Milton? Hm. I never would have guessed she was into poetry.”

“I wonder what other surprises she has in store for you.” Megatron replies. _Goosebumps_. You feel them prickle _all_ over your skin because you know he was talking directly to _you._

“Maybe I can catch her before she leaves the canteen.” Dr. Sumdac says, then yawns, and you hear him zip up your bag. “After this… I’m considering actually listening to Sari, and taking a day off.”

“If it will only increase the speed of your work on restoring my body, then do what is necessary.”

“Yes, yes,” he mutters in response. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Of _course_ …” Megatron feigns enthusiasm, and under any other circumstance, maybe this would have coaxed a chuckle out of you. You have no doubt he can sound eager in the right situation, but _this_ isn’t one of them.

You hear the door open and close, and then, it’s quiet.

You can’t _believe_ it. You’re in the _clear_.

You don’t ask why he did it. You don’t want to ruin the moment for yourself.

“You are a glutton for punishment,” he hisses instantly as you reveal yourself. “Do not be such a careless _fool_ and leave your belongings out in the open the next time.”

“Sorry…” you gasp, still trying to calm down as you cautiously crawl out from behind the console. You feel like you want to throw up after that scare, but you’re still in _awe_. “That was… that was _incredible_.”

“Falsifying the footage was nothing short of effortless. This… primitive technology is _insulting_.”

“No, I mean… you’re so charismatic _!”_ you proclaim, standing before him once more. "You make it look easy."

“Did you expect anything less?” he asks you, lowly, and in that moment you want nothing more than to somehow embrace his _voice_. It’s all around you. Your words get caught in your throat and you shake your head, cheeks flushing pink.

You’re still in disbelief he put himself between you and being discovered. Evidently he had no trouble spinning convincing lies but the fact he’d actually cared enough to go out of his way to… well, _protect_ you… it _astonished_ you. It was the _last_ thing you would have ever expected him to do.

“If Isaac Sumdac is truly one of the best minds your planet has to offer, I can understand your desperation.” Megatron’s words drip with disdain.

He’s not wrong. You swallow the lump in your throat and finally reply. “All his major breakthroughs come from standing on your shoulders. His company exists because of _you_. Nobody knows that but the three of us.”

“We will see how long that lasts once I am free of this antiquated system,” he growls.

“An exposé?” you give him an apprehensive smile, and to your delight, you sense him returning the sentiment.

“Oh, _much_ more than that.”

You know that’s a promise he’s _definitely_ going to keep.

“He’s probably just going to drop off my bag at security when he can’t find me in the canteen. I should go before he comes back...” you sigh heavily. You really need a break, or you feel like you’ll end up having a heart attack. You’re still shaking slightly from this whole ordeal.

Megatron opens the door for you. “Then leave.”

Right before you do just that, you glance over your shoulder at him. He’s staring back at you, and if you know what’s good for you, this will be the last time you sneak in here to see him.

By the time your bag is back in your possession and you’re on the train ride home, you’re already fantasizing about confronting him regarding his actions today. His deceptive abilities left you even more curious than before, an insatiable _longing_ to learn more about this fallen tyrant.

Your neck pulses. You slip your hand under your sweater and touch the bruise tenderly. He’s ensnared you, and you’re very well aware that you’re falling further into his grasp with every visit. You're _dooming_ yourself, letting yourself be guided by your irresponsible hunger for more.

And you can't _wait_ to see where it'll take you next.


	3. Greed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were so certain of yourself when you first met him... but you're only human. Your constant battle with your doubts are beginning to show and at your most vulnerable moment, Megatron seizes the opportunity to bring you further under his influence.

“Those that betrayed me will know the price.”

Megatron has made many threats and promises. So far, you have believed each and every one of them.

This is no different.

“You didn’t answer my question...” you say, standing before him, in the red glow of his optic. The way you nervously wet your lips has his gaze narrowing, and you have a feeling he’s aware that you’re testing the waters. Pushing boundaries you were previously too anxious to dare try.

“And nor do I intend to.” Megatron’s sinister tone gets your heart hammering. You’re sure he can hear it, completely aware of your fear. Somehow _feeding_ off of it. “Do you know why?”

 _That_ catches you off guard. “No?”

“Because you will take the response I give, and you will be satisfied with it.”

The seconds tick by in silence, soon into an entire minute, but he is patient as you battle with yourself within the conflicted, muddled recesses of your mind. More than anything, you want to know _why_ he did what he did. _Why_ he protected you from discovery, when he could have so _easily_ outed you. Surely, the joy from seeing you suffer in that way would be tenfold more entertaining than your constant visitations, of which you recalled him mentioning had become too frequent.

In the end, you give a weak nod of your head. It’s all you can manage.

“Now go.”

A cold dismissal.

You do what he says, numb at first, but as soon as you’re out of the lab and you’re walking down the corridor the dejection starts to sink in. You’d known this was a possibility, but for some reason, you still feel _crushed_.

That evening, it’s all you can think about. You comb through _everything_ in your head, _every_ detail, thinking and fantasizing about when he’d saved you from losing your job, to the time he’d dangled you precariously with the metal instrument that had clasped around your throat.

As always, your hand drifts to the bruise. A reminder of how this had all started. It’s near enough healed, which means soon you can wear something _other_ than turtleneck sweaters. You caress it almost tenderly, before you return to preparing your dinner, giving a long, forlorn sigh.

Did he believe you were going to turn on him? That’s all you could think of, given his response today. You _weren’t_ going to betray him. Even if this all ended up just making you feel worse, you would _never_. You’d made the choice to stay, even though the very real threat of being eradicated loomed over you constantly. Everything else _surely_ paled in comparison. You try to justify it to yourself but you know the truth.

You fear him turning you away more than you do him _killing_ you.

You swallow the lump in your throat, staring down at the floor as you come to a sudden stop, gripping the edges of the kitchen counter tight enough to turn your knuckles white. He was exploiting your vulnerability and until now, the thought hadn’t really bothered you. Now, though, for some reason, you feel _sick_.

The smell of your microwaved meal just makes it worse. You walk to the bathroom, keeping it together until you reach the toilet, and then you sink down, back to the wall as you try to bring yourself under control as you slip further into panic. You spend the next hour and a half sobbing, and after that, drained, you drag yourself to bed, collapsing into the familiar sheets with puffy eyes and a total lack of energy that has you considering actually taking a day off tomorrow.

That means you won’t be seeing him. You doubt _he_ will care much. Still, you find yourself weighing your options, and you’re incredibly close to forgetting the whole thing and still visiting him when your phone lights up. You’re tired and you fully intend to ignore whoever it is, even though you rarely get any messages, when you see the name.

The next day, you _do_ leave your apartment, but it _isn’t_ to go to work.

For the first time in forever, you’re having coffee.

With someone you actually considered a _friend._

Or close to it.

“It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” he says, warm smile shot at you from across the table. You’re still exhausted, but you feign well-being, returning his smile with one of your own before you take a sip of your latte.

“Yeah… thanks for letting me know you were back in town.”

“No problem. It’s lucky you still use the same number. I thought, living in tech manufacturing capital of the world would mean you’d be upgrading every couple of months. Especially with your job. Working for the big guy himself… Isaac Sumdac.”

Owen was always the chattier of you both. For as long as you’d known him since you graduated university, he hadn’t changed much, while life had body slammed _yo_ _u_ into oblivion. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

“I bet. I’m kind of jealous.”

You’re bitter. He’s beaming, genuinely _happy_ , and you doubt he’s _actually_ jealous, but _you_ are. He’s moved on with his life and made something of himself, while you’re stuck here. It’s selfish to feel that way, but really, you can’t help it. “Yeah,” you repeat, distant. Silence settles between you both and you start feeling uncomfortable under his stare, and vice versa.

“So…” he pauses, clearly wracking his brain for a question. Suddenly you regret even coming out here and you’re ready to wrap this up as soon as possible. It might be cold, but you don’t care what he has to say. You’re tired, and you just want to crawl back into bed and sleep. Despite that, you’re compelled to ease his struggles.

“Are you seeing anybody?” you ask politely, wondering if that’s too personal, but just like that his face lights up again while yours stays stony.

“Yup,” he confirms in a chirp, and you deflate even further, “he’s the one. I uh…”

His cheeks turn a shade of pink and he lifts a hand to show you his engagement ring. It surprises you, your eyes growing wide. “Wow. Congratulations, dude.”

“Thanks. His name is Leo. Maybe the three of us could hang out sometime, since he says the next time I come here, he’s coming with, too.”

“That’s sweet,” you stare down into your coffee. “Really sweet.”

“What about you?”

The gears in your head are turning as you try to desperately think of a reply that won’t completely humiliate you and make everything ten times more awkward. Then, you think you have it, lifting your head and meeting his curious gaze. “Yeah. I do, actually.”

“That’s great! So, who’s the lucky guy? Or madame? Or otherwise?”

“...he’s a colleague,” you lie, disgusted at how naturally easy it is, “we’ve been seeing each other for… a month at least.”

“Oh, so fairly recent! Still, that’s awesome.”

“Though lately… we’ve… run into a rough patch.” You see his enthusiasm slowly start to fade, and you don’t know why you even said that, but it doesn’t stop there. “Or maybe it’s just me. I don’t know.”

“Hey, no. It takes two to tango.”

“Unless you’re dancing with the Devil.”

“Jesus. Now I’m worried.” Owen’s brows knit as he suddenly looks a lot more serious, leaning forward. You’re debating whether to just get up and leave or change the subject first. You end up doing neither because surprisingly, you want to keep going.

“He’s been dismissive lately. I don’t blame him, you know? I’m… clingy...” you explain it the best you can without actually giving any compromising details. “...and he’s made it clear multiple times what I’m getting into.”

“I don’t know, you literally just compared the guy to the Devil. That’s kind of concerning. Is everything alright?”

“I’m just being dramatic,” you say without an ounce of emotion and you don’t know whether that makes it more convincing or less. “I like poetry, Owen. I thought you’d remember that.”

“Yeah but…” he frowns, staring at you, trying to _read_ you. “Well, I’ll ask again for good measure. Is everything okay?”

_Is it?_

“...kind of,” you voice drops to a whisper, and his next question goes over your head. You’re picturing that singular, red optic, and the head of the being it belongs to. It’s only been a day and you already miss his voice. His articulate way of speech. His unsympathetic self, telling you exactly how everything is, while somehow still managing to pull your strings. The only one who made you feel so _safe_ , yet posed the most threat. In his presence, it was like nothing could hurt you any more. Only _him_.

“I almost got myself into a lot of trouble, just being around him, but he’s a force to be reckoned with. He’s clever, and charismatic, and intriguing, and _dangerous..._ ” you breathe, and a shiver runs down your spine. “When I’m around him, I feel _good_ , because he puts everything into perspective. I don’t have to worry about the insignificant shit that haunts me on a daily basis, because he makes all of it look so _small_ _._ He’s special. He’s worth the _risk.”_

Owen was staring at you. You had successfully wiped him clean of any cheerfulness, his disturbed expression speaking a thousand words, but you’re too caught up in yourself to worry. You feel like a weight had just been lifted off your chest and it had only merely been _scratching_ the surface of how you felt. Anything more, and you’d be giving too much away.

“What do you mean… risk? Why is he dangerous?” Owen’s cautious tone doesn’t faze you. You take a final sip from your coffee, having reached the bottom of the mug.

“He’s got a lot of influence in the work space,” you reply, and that one _isn’t_ a lie. “He’s come to a standstill right now but he’s got plans, and I’m anticipating where they will take him. I hope that I’ll be there to see it.”

“That’s… I don’t know how else to put it. It sounds self-destructive.”

Something about that sentence is what finally knocks you down from your high. You blink as it sinks in, that feeling of elation beginning to ebb away. When you don’t respond after a good several seconds, he continues, unease written all over his face. “It seems like you’re in deep with this guy and you can’t get away.”

“No,” is all you can force out as you feel dread starting to grasp you.

“Has he hurt you? He… he hasn’t, has he?” Owen drops the question on you like a ton of bricks. He’s your voice of reason, telling you point blank you’re fucking yourself over. It’s all things you already know, but hearing it from someone _else’s_ mouth is so much _different_ to your own.

“ _No.”_ You repeat. That lie stings more than any other you’ve told so far, and you have a feeling he isn’t buying it anyway.

“I don’t want to make assumptions but… are you sure that… well, do you want to do something about this?”

“I’m done,” you respond instantly, alarmed further by how he goes to stand up with you. You want to curl up into a ball and disappear, unable to take the pressure of his stare on you as you intend to slip out of your chair and rush for the café exit. How quickly your mood had plummeted.

“Wait!” he calls out to you but you’re already at the door. “I just want you to be _safe!”_

He might as well have been banging his head on a brick wall. Your brisk walk turns into a jog until you’re far away enough to feel certain he won’t catch up to you, even though you doubted he was pursuing you in the first place. When you finally stop, bracing your hands on your knees to catch your breath more from the panic than the run, you lift your head up.

Sumdac Tower stands tall over the rest of the city.

You think about how you’re one of the only people in the entire world beside the professor himself who knows his biggest, darkest secret. You think about how beyond that, you’re the _only_ human who knows just how dangerous it really _is._ Not just to you, but to this planet. Maybe even the universe.

To normal people like Owen who had absolutely _no_ idea what was in store for them.

Until this point, you’d had no reason or capability to care, but a brief conversation with someone _other_ than mandatory interactions at work, and suddenly you feel incredibly uneasy about your entire philosophy. Being selfish hadn’t disturbed you before, because you’d only ever had to look out for one person since you moved out of your mom’s house.

And that person was _yourself._

Considering you suffered from a _severe_ sense of worthlessness, it hadn’t been easy. Not one _bit._

“Fuck…” you breathe, rubbing your temples as you lean your back to a lamppost to support yourself, feeling utterly overwhelmed. What had you _expected?_ Even trying to put it as subtly as possible, _no one_ would understand your feelings.

The next two weeks go by _agonizingly_ slow. You spend them in your apartment alone, reflecting, wallowing in your own misery. Thinking about how _every_ friendship you’ve ever had has gradually fizzled out over time into nothing, and the _one_ person who actually remembered you existed, you’d burned bridges. You regretted ever opening your mouth.

Instead, once again, you just _hadn’t_ been able to keep your mind off Megatron. Even now, he plagued your thoughts. It was making you lose your mind. You draw your hand up your head, staring up at the ceiling in the pitch black of your apartment as you lay motionless on your bed.

It would be the end of you, sooner or later.

You decide to follow your impulses, and it leads you back to the laboratory.

It’s late, way past your shift, and you know that security is tripled during the night. Fortunately, your feet are as quick as your mind. You slip out of the restroom you’ve been hiding in, sticking close behind surveillance bots as they patrol the corridors. Undoubtedly, this was insanity.

Though what do you have to lose?

You come to the familiar door, locked tight. You know you only have a couple seconds before the bots double around and catch you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you briefly glance up at the security camera trained on you. _“Megatron?”_ you whisper, so very quiet.

Right before you’re discovered, the door slides open and you fall in. You catch yourself on your hands, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You lift your head and you instantly feel in awe.

In the darkness, he looks even _more_ glorious. He’s so impressive despite his predicament. You’re uncertain of what to do at first, until his optic comes to life, and then the other, but only one has the capability to lock onto you, something akin to a pupil shifting down where you’re pathetically sprawled on the floor.

“Were you… _sleeping?”_ is the first thing out of your mouth. An icebreaker at best, an irritating observation at worst.

“So you finally return.”

You’re _so_ glad to hear his voice again.

Slowly, you start to get up. A startled yelp comes from your throat as something comes down on your back, forcing you to remain on your knees. The first thing you think is that he’s about to push down and snap your spine in two.

“It is unwise to keep me waiting.”

“...waiting?” you repeat, like the word is new to you. “...I thought you couldn’t _wait_ to get _rid_ of me.”

“I don’t recall ever giving you permission to speak on my behalf with your piteous assumptions.”

Something like that might have usually been enough to shut you up, but not this time. “Then what’s the point? If all I do is make dumb assumptions, end it already.”

“So _melodramatic,”_ he spits, hissing the word with more venom than you’ve heard before. “You’ve grown quite bold in the space of a couple deca-cycles. It must be something to do with that new friend you’ve acquired.”

You feel like you’ve just been pushed off a roof. “You know… you _know_ about that?”

“You are more naive than I anticipated,” his voice lowers, condescending and cold, and the quiet that follows is _deafening_ up until he’s the one that breaks it again, as you’ve fallen completely silent. “Yes, I am well aware of your escapades outside of this wretched building. Did you think I would not monitor you closely when you all but hold information detrimental to my survival?”

There had _never_ been any trust. You shouldn’t have been so surprised. You _knew_ who you were dealing with. Despite your constant attempts to convince yourself otherwise, you would _never_ be able to prepare yourself for all things he was capable of, for the pain he could inflict upon you.

He was beyond your comprehension in every single way possible.

The pressure on your back grows. You’re assuming he wants a response, but you don’t know what to say any more.

“I was wondering if you would ever come back.” Megatron muses. “All that bravado about seeing this through to the end no matter the cost, and one little human you haven’t seen in stellar-cycles calls it all into question.”

As always, he hits the nail on the head, though this time what he’s saying actually makes you nervous. “I’m still curious about you. I’m here because I want to know more.”

“Is that so?” Megatron questions and you feel your stomach _flip._ If only it were as easy to spill everything to him as it had been in the café.

As it turned out, _you didn’t even need to._

“I thought it was because it makes you feel _good,"_ he adds. It takes a second for that to sink in.

Your face flushes bright red at the way he _says_ it. You feel like you’re burning alive under your own skin, squirming beneath the weight of the apparatus digging relentlessly into your back. “You _heard_ that?!” you can’t help but exclaim, wishing for him to go the whole way and just kill you _now._ Out of all the things he made you feel, _shy_ wasn't usually one of them.

“Every word.”

“...then… why even ask?”

You’re being lifted. Not by your neck, but by your _waist,_ and you’re brought closer and closer and _closer,_ now finding yourself not looking _up_ at him, but right _at_ him. You're not his equal, not by a _long_ shot. You don't think _anybody_ , human, alien, machine, ever _will_ be. You wait for what he's going to say, feeling like an eternity passes in a few seconds.

Is he going to give you the truth, or another lie?

“You intrigue me.”

Your heart quickens. There’s a fascination in his voice that is so _incredibly_ alluring, a hint of something that gets you excited. “I don’t… I don’t understand,” you breathe. “I—

“Then allow me to be perfectly clear,” he cuts you off, silencing you. “I have granted you the privilege of living this long because _I_ desired to. Following your blunders has been amusing for a time, with not much else to do while trapped here."

“Anyone else could probably intrigue and amuse you too, if you gave them the chance. What about the professor? He’s always tripping over his own feet. I know his fate is entwined with yours, more so than mine. I’m not that important…” you repeat those dreaded words that have haunted you for most of your teenage and adult life, drilled in so deep you genuinely believe them.

“ _I_ decide that.” Megatron’s growl is deep, loud, though most of all, _sincere._ “I am not interested in any other human. I am interested in _you.”_

You begin to cry. You’re so overcome with emotion, the final flimsy thread that was holding you together finally snapping. Essentially absolving you of any responsibility, you instantly feel better. “I’m _sorry,”_ you croak out. “I did want to visit sooner. It’s just, you mentioned that thing about traitors, and...”

“It was a warning, as I issue to _all_ who follow me. So far, you have not disappointed. _Will you?”_

You’re at a loss for words. So you don’t speak any.

Instead, you lift your arms, cautiously bringing your hand closer as you arm stretches out to close the rest of the short distance between you both. For the first time ever, you lay your palm upon him. You have no idea what he’s thinking, or _feeling,_ but he allows you to _touch_ him, fingers gently trailing around his optic as he stares at you. The sting of cold doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

“Is it so bad… that I want you to take care of me?” you whisper. You tremble, unsure of how he’s going to react, but shamefully, the apprehension doesn’t frighten you. It _titillates_ you.

“Take care of you?” he repeats back at you, sounding bemused, the smirk clear in his tone. “Like a _pet?”_

You don’t know how much of this is a facade. You nod your head slightly. You don’t even know yourself how you reached that conclusion, but so be it. If that’s how he interprets your desires, you were in no place to argue.

“We will see...” he murmurs.

You can’t believe he’s actually considering it.

He releases you. You fall a short distance, none too gently, yet you manage to land on your feet this time, wobbling on your unsteady legs. They feel like jelly.

“Dr. Sumdac has a habit of arriving early. I suggest you leave before we have a repeat of your last mistake.”

“Yeah…” you agree, still processing everything that just happened. Honestly, you’re exhausted. You wish you could just curl up here somewhere. “And… about my friend…”

“Forget again that I do not like to share, and I will not be so forgiving.”

You can't help it. That makes you tingle all over. The thought of him being possessive over you is an intoxicating one.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything to him," you beg, hoping he will accept your request. You know that being around people now is going to put them in danger, so you're fully ready to renounce everybody who still occasionally popped into your life. It wasn't a big deal for you at all.

“As if I’d waste the precious time and resources.”

If this was the point of no return, you were ready to dive head first down into hell with him, if it meant you could greedily cling to this amazing feeling of _freedom_. You’re right back where you started, letting yourself continue to spiral down if it means satisfying yourself.

And him.

After all, he has you right where he wants you.

“So _gullible,”_ he says aloud to himself with nothing less than aversion as one of the monitors lights up, and he watches you as you make your way out of the facility, into the cold night air. Snuffing out that spark of conflict had been child’s play, yet he expected it wouldn’t be the last time you would have your doubts.

He has grander plans that _far_ expand beyond you, but _one_ thing is for certain.

He can’t _wait_ to ruin you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't intending to bring any other characters into this besides a few beloved canon faces, but this kinda happened by itself. The reader feeling so isolated and alone is important to this story, but there's still a world out there, with good people, and I wanted to highlight that to bring her some awareness to strengthen the conflict. Alas... it was fruitless, no? Big Decepticon daddy is just too damn tempting.
> 
> I hope it was an enjoyable read! Next chapter, things will start heating up considerably...


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